


Trigger

by feverbeats



Series: Bulletproof [3]
Category: RocknRolla (2008)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-08
Updated: 2011-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-14 13:55:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverbeats/pseuds/feverbeats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johnny was born to be a rocker, but he's made himself into a businessman. The next step is making everyone else agree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trigger

**Author's Note:**

> First this was meant to be a tiny Christmas ficlet, then it was meant to be a short coda to Everything Bulletproof, but it ended up being kind of an "it's hard out there for a (trans) gangster" sequel that's longer than the original. Oh, and for the sake of argument, I guess we're saying RocknRolla takes place before Snatch and Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels. Additional warnings: Violence, violent sex, transphobia.

The worst bit is, it's Christmas.

To be specific, it's their first Christmas since Lenny's death (murder--being, again, specific). Johnny and Archy are spending this Christmas night in a fucking freezing vacant lot outside an equally vacant factory. They're waiting to meet a bastard who thinks he's big-time (all right, he is) and who thinks he's going to get in on Johnny's territory just because Johnny's some junkie rocker (debatable).

He stamps his feet in the cold, kicking his combat boots against the pavement. Wearing shit like this used to be a form of armor, and now it's still armor, just of a different sort. Still, protecting himself against these idiots is easy as breathing compared to protecting himself against Lenny.

Apart from the boots, he quite looks the part he's meant to look: nice suit, tattoos covered, scars covered. Trench coat. Keeping up appearances--in every sense--is apparently the first step on the road to respect. Of course, public and private are very different indeed, and Johnny can still wind up getting what he wants when he's at home.

Negotiating the power shift hasn't been easy, of course, especially for Archy. He's too traditional. Still. Johnny's been proving himself out there, enough that Archy's willing to smack him around when he asks for it. That's been a battle in and of itself from the start, of course. _I don't think it's right, belting a girl like that._ But if there's one thing Johnny's good at, it's getting people to see things his way.

Which isn't to say things have been easy lately. Having Archy at least hypothetically taking his orders has nearly swept his feet out from under him. He guesses that Archy feels much the same. Still, they'll manage. They're the sort of people who do, whether by accident or by design.

Johnny also doesn't entirely like the idea that he can have whatever he wants not by shouting and causing a fuss, but by waving his hand.

Not that he hasn't had his share of resistance to his new position, of course. Turns out that all the fucking bastards who have a hand in running this town were mates with Lenny and aren't well pleased with the idea of some kid waltzing in and making himself comfortable. And it's not as though they don't have their fair share of ammunition, either. If they want him discredited, they think they can do it quite easily.

He's heard what they're saying, of course, although occasionally he'd rather not know. It's boring as shit. _Little junkie queer_. He'll wear that with pride. There are things being said that he doesn't prefer, though, and those have been a bit harder to shrug off. The fact that these men aren't tuned in to the music world doesn't mean they're deaf, and they've heard all the things Johnny would rather have kept quiet.

And Archy, of course, is unhappy about that. He's knocked a few heads together, but he doesn't generally like to deal with the big names that way, Johnny's noticed. More unwritten rules, like the fact that he and Archy have to fucking play pretend whenever they're doing business.

So now that's brought things up to speed, and they're still standing here in the fucking cold on Christmas night with nothing to show for it. Even Archy, whose patience is impressive enough that Johnny has to work in order to try it, is getting restless. And Johnny, he's just fucking wound. Holidays are always difficult, a flood of sense-memory about as subtle as a blunt instrument, reminding him of school vacations.

"He's late," Johnny says unnecessarily, mostly because he's getting sick of going 'round and 'round in his own skull.

"Yeah," Archy replies. "That's an insult. He don't respect you."

Johnny's not at all shocked. He's more than ready to work for these fuckers' respect, because whether or not he wants it, he needs it if he's going to stay alive. "Would he respect it if I drove my finger through his eye?"

Archy frowns, pushing himself away from the car. "You don't listen, John. I mean it, you can't just go mad at this lot. It don't look good. You've got to keep a handle on yourself."

His whole life sometimes feels like one long struggle to get Archy to treat him how he is: boy, man, gangster. Right now he'd settle for being treated like a fucking adult. "Or you could keep a handle on me," he tries half-heartedly.

Archy's frown deepens. "That ain't gonna work. Not in public."

"My concept of public vs. private is about as skewed as my concept of family, Uncle," Johnny returns cheerfully, rubbing his hands together to warm them. He can see Archy is about to argue, which would be even more warming, but a long black car pulls into the lot and they both go quiet.

"That'll be him, then," Archy says. He sounds concerned, which is very fucking worrying.

"Afraid he'll take us to bits?" Johnny inquires, assuring himself that his gun is still in his waistband.

Archy shoots him a tight little smile. "No. Afraid you'll say the wrong thing and fuck us both over on account of being new at this."

That could be a joke or not. Johnny shrugs. "Relax, Uncle. I won't do anything silly." He hopes that's true. He's been all right at the talking part so far.

The gangster they're dealing with tonight is named Harry, Hatchet Harry to people who aren't his friends. And Lenny _was_ his friend. The fact that he's backed off so far only means he's being patient, probably.

He steps out of the car alone, which is another bad sign. He's not nervous, then. And he doesn't shake Johnny's hand. "Sorry to keep you waiting," he says, smiling unpleasantly.

Oh, this is going well, then. "Not to worry," Johnny says, "We've just arrived as well. I don't think we've been formally introduced. Harry, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Harry says, "And you're Len's little girl. Jenny."

Johnny doesn't react. He's punched, stabbed, and screamed at people for less, but right now he's fucking frozen. He wasn't expecting this here and now, although he should have been. People have been talking, after all. It's the price Johnny pays for winding up back home with daddy's friends.

Thank fucking Christ, Archy steps forward. "Hullo, Harry. I'll have ask you to speak to Mr. Quid with a bit more respect, if that's all right with you." The fact that he can say _Mr. Quid_ without laughing when they're in public is something Johnny appreciates. You know. Apart from all the other bits of this he appreciates.

Harry takes an actual step back. "Arch. Evening. You'll have to forgive me for not saying hello right away. See, where I come from, we don't hold with traitors."

Archy stiffens, and Johnny is nearly too distracted by keeping his hands from shaking to notice the way Archy's fists clench. Nearly. He looks for these things.

"How's that, Harry?" Archy says softly. "Because I think everyone's heard by now about why Lenny died. And it weren't because _I'm_ a traitor."

Harry smiles again. "Yeah, Arch, that's what some say. There are others saying you were just waiting for your chance, and then, well, people can say what they like after the fact, can't they? But it ain't my job to figure that out. I'm just a simple businessman looking to make friends with our little lady in change of property sales." He leers at Johnny.

Johnny steps forward, making sure he's in front of Archy. His hands are still shaking, but his coat sleeves are long enough to cover that up. "Excuse me, darling, are you talking about me? Because it seems to be you've been misinformed. I ain't a girl and my man's not the type to betray his friends. I suggest you fuck off and find some people who you can look in the eye when you say that."

Harry laughs. "Oh, you talk a good game, Jenny, but you don't have the balls to back it up, do you? Believe me. I'm fucking king of the porn industry and I know a pussy when I see one."

There's a pen in Johnny's pocket. Now it's in his hand. He takes two large steps closer to Harry and says, "I didn't realize my _vagina_ was any of your business." And he stabs the pen into Harry's shoulder.

Archy makes a sound behind Johnny, and it takes him a second to realize it's a surprised chuckle. That means more than Harry swearing and bleeding all over the parking lot.

"Let's go," Johnny says.

He lets Archy drive, and although he's meant to do that because Archy works for him, that's not really what's on his mind now. He's wound up, still trembling, and he needs Archy in the driver's seat. He feels like gnawing his skin open.

"All right, John?"

Johnny shudders, genuine cold combined with too many feelings. "Well, this is going swimmingly," he grits out. "I can see I'm a sensation."

"You always did like to cause a scene," Archy says, and the corner of his mouth quirks up.

Johnny is flooded with relief. They're in this together; they're okay. "Pity the bastards took this long to come out of the woodwork, eh? I was almost thinking things were going to be easy."

"You wouldn't know what to do with easy."

Johnny is occasionally so overwhelmed with gratitude these days and if he even began to express it, he'd just shatter. He's awful at genuine emotion, especially of a positive nature, and he can't afford to fall apart right now. Instead, he's grudgingly putting himself back together. He is still getting used to the idea of fighting in ways that hurt the other person more than they hurt him. "Mm. You always did know me too well, Arch."

Archy shrugs, eyes on the road, looking pleased. "Not always. But I think after all this time, I probably do."

At least one of them knows what he's doing. Johnny has a head for business and he's a fucking genius, but he can't just intimidate all of Lenny's old pals. Speaking of. "Arch, now that Harry's causing trouble, should I see what's happening with Brick Top? I know they were all pretty tight back before everything. I ought to see if he's brewing any trouble on his end."

Archy grunts noncommittally. "If you like."

Which means, _I think it's a terrible idea._ Say what you mean, Archy. Johnny's too wound to chastise Archy at the moment, though. Besides, he's too busy being proud of Archy for working out that _Don't do it_ is the fastest way to get Johnny to do something. Not that he won't do it now. "Think I will, then." He pulls his phone out and flips it open, pleased to note that he's no longer shaking. It's warm in the car.

"Have his number, do you?" Archy asks, all tensed up and trying to hide it.

Johnny does, because he made a point of hunting down the numbers of Lenny's nearest and dearest as soon as he slid into Lenny's shoes. "Don't you worry," he assures Archy. "I've got it all under control." He scrolls through his contacts and hits send.

"Yeah?"

"Brick Top? Listen, Johnny Quid here. You've probably heard what I've been doing with the property business lately. How're things your end?"

There's a brief silence before Brick Top says, "Well, well, well. Jenny Cole. Wasn't sure I'd be hearing from you. Didn't think you'd have the guts."

Johnny has switches, things that set him off every time, and it's more the _Cole_ than the _Jenny_ that does it this time. When Lenny married Johnny's mum, he wanted everything legal and official with the kid, so for years Johnny dragged around _Cole_ with him wherever he went. That's gone now, along with _Jenny_. All the pieces of his name belong to him. "What did you call me?" he asks, easy and inquiring.

Brick Top snorts. "Lenny told us about your silly game when you was a little girl, but I think it's a bit past that now. Congratulations, my girl, you've gone from irritating rebel to proper freak."

Johnny's laugh sounds grating in his own ears. "You fucking prick. You listen to me—"

"No," Brick Top snaps, "You listen. Your bits are your own affair, but don't expect you'll be running any sort of business in London's criminal underworld like that. And now that you've started worrying Harry, and you're about to start worrying me, word will spread. You know, I expect it's all on account of your mum offing herself like she did."

Johnny has switches—

The phone is broken before he realizes when he's done, and he's seeing red. His hands are right back to shaking, fuck, his entire _body_ is shaking, so hard his teeth chatter.

Archy, who's pulled the car over and has been waiting quietly, lays his hand on Johnny's leg. "Don't let it get to you, John. They're going to keep doing this, trying to take you out, but you can't let it work."

"And it ends when it _does_ work," Johnny says viciously. "Or when I stab them all. Fatally, this time. Look, people already know, and the ones who don't soon will. Johnny Quid, Lenny's little girl. Johnny the fag, Johnny the _tranny_. I could stand it from other rockers. This is different. This means people taking shots at me, and I might've used to think so, but I'm not bulletproof."

Archy puts his arm around Johnny's shaking shoulders. "You may not be, but who's to say I'm not? None of these blokes. They're all soft in one way or another, and they're fucking terrified of me. You think they were scared of Len? No. People were scared of Len 'cause they were scared of me. And it'll be the same with you. It'll just take a while for them to give you the respect you deserve."

Archy doesn't do speeches too often, so Johnny's fucking well listening. "Thanks," he says. "Look, I mean that. I--" But if he goes on, he'll wind up in pieces, so instead he says, "Take me home."

*

Archy takes Johnny home and stays there, because Johnny's hands are still shaking. Archy's sure being in this house doesn't help matters. This is winding up a pretty rotten Christmas.

"Easy, John, just breathe," Archy says, laying a hand on Johnny's back.

Johnny jerks away and begins pacing the living room, knocking snow off his boots on the rug. Not that it matters; it's his rug now. "That was--If it's going to be like that, it's going to be difficult." He sounds stripped, and Archy wonders if that's Harry and Brick Top's fault for being fuckers or his fault for being there to hear it.

"Yeah," he says, hanging back a bit. "But we always knew you'd have a little trouble establishing yourself. Even at the end, Lenny had friends."

"I thought we were past it," Johnny snaps, ripping his coat off and throwing it viciously in the direction of the couch. "I've been doing well with those pathetic bastards. It doesn't take much. And now this."

Archy steps a little closer, still maintaining minimum safe distance. "This ain't different. You've just got to keep your head. You've been handling all their threats and whatnot. And you've got me." But he knows it's not just about the threats.

Johnny whips around and comes to a halt in front of Archy. "It's different. It's different, and you fucking know it. Threats mean people are scared. Violence means people are scared. I--I'm not used to needing armor against this anymore."

If there's anything that makes Archy uncomfortable, it's seeing Johnny honest. It hardly feels natural. "You'll get there," he says, because all Johnny really needs is to wind down, shake off the tension. Then he'll be back on his feet, furious and planning again.

"I feel--" Johnny starts. He's breathing too fast. "I want to fucking _murder_ something." He locks eyes with Archy. "I feel mad. I need you to take me down."

Archy's still getting adjusted to this new system. Len getting angry was just Len getting angry, not some mad game to get fucked. Not that Johnny's playing right now. Archy can see his shoulders trembling, not with anxiety now, but with tension. "Come here, then," Archy says, voice low and steady.

Johnny goes, crossing the room like he's been pulled by a string. It scares Archy a bit, having that kind of power over someone like Johnny. Scaring the men who work for him or the bastards who tried to mess with him is different. Johnny isn't something tame. Then again, Archy knows that the second he betrays Johnny's trust, that control will snap. He's seen it happen, with Johnny and his dad.

The second Johnny's within arm's reach, Archy grabs him and slams him hard against the wall. Johnny throws his head back and it hits the wall with a thunk, adding damage that Archy won't do. That's fair. This whole thing has been one long negotiation, compromise upon compromise, and Johnny's got to make a few as well. If Archy won't bang him up as much as he wants to be banged up, that's just business.

Archy presses Johnny against the wall, knee between Johnny's legs. Sometimes Johnny'll bite if Archy does that, which, while not entirely a bad thing, means he's too wound up for some of this. This time, though, he just tenses and spreads his legs, grinding against Archy as he kisses him. Archy's still got to go carefully, though, because Johnny doesn't always know what's good for him, and he'll let Archy get too far before he says anything, if he says anything at all.

Archy's careful when he takes Johnny's shirt off, and when he bends his head to lick the boy's scars. Oh, of which he's got dozens, but he likes it when Archy licks the ones on his chest. Archy's stopped being so afraid, these days, of breaking Johnny. If the drugs didn't break him--and they got close--nothing will, certainly not the marks Johnny's begged for. And even the begging always had an edge to it, like Archy's in for a fight at any minute. It's the hottest fucking thing he's ever experienced.

And then Johnny's got a few scars that Archy doesn't know the origin of. That makes him angry, and not entirely for the right reasons.

Johnny whines, head still thrown back, shoving his hips against Archy's body. Archy grabs his hips hard enough to bruise, and Johnny hisses through his teeth and squirms in Archy's grasp. Good, this is good. He needs to be brought down from the tension he's riding.

"Tell me what you want," Archy mutters. Johnny needs to be the one deciding that, because he's too on-edge, and anything could set him off. But Archy has to find out in the right way. There are rules here, unspoken or not.

Johnny twists and pushes against Archy, breathing hard. "I, I want." He swallows hard, looking annoyed with himself. "Hold me down. Hit me with your fists and fuck me with your fingers." He laughs, a short sound that's cut off almost immediately.

Archy swallows as well. He's still not used to being with someone who's so fucking blunt, but he finds he doesn't exactly mind. Johnny can do things with his words and Archy can do things with his body and they'll manage all right, both at home and on the streets. He shoves Johnny down, hopefully giving him rug-burn along his back. Archy likes the marks and Johnny needs them.

He kneels over Johnny and pins his hands over his head, flat against the rug. Johnny looks good like this, humming with tension, lip bitten raw. His body is littered with scars and tattoos. Archy's often complained about the latter, but Johnny loves them. He's particularly pleased by the one on his shoulder that says _chip_ , a joke Archy refuses to be amused by. Then there's the one low across his hip that reads _pretty little faggot_ , which Archy frowned about the first time he saw, until Johnny explained that it was about naming yourself before other people name you.

He supposes there's something of that in the marks Johnny asks for, too, although everyone knows there are far more obvious reasons for that. He hits Johnny once with the back of his hand, and Johnny cries out. It's a good sound. It makes Archy wants to touch him. Not yet, though.

He hits Johnny harder the second time. This one will bruise. He drops his other hand to Johnny's hip and digs his fingers in there, bringing up more bruises. Johnny's not having a bad enough day that there'll be any breaking of the skin.

"I want," Johnny says, and his voice is dangerously shaky, "I want you to choke me."

There are lines Archy draws because he has to, because otherwise it won't be safe for either of them. He won't use the belt. And he won't do this. So he hits Johnny again, even harder.

Johnny's head snaps sideways, and Archy's pleased to see that his nose is bleeding. "Don't ask me that again," he says stiffly. "Do you hear me?"

Johnny grins, the first genuine smile he's offered today. "Yes, Uncle."

They've talked about that. Archy tugs Johnny's pants open roughly and shoves his hand against Johnny's boxers. They're black silk today, some sort of obscure or nonsensical joke with himself. And Johnny's fucking wet.

Johnny makes a shockingly deep noise in his throat when Archy works his hand inside the boxers, and that's--Archy sometimes worries himself with how much he wants Johnny. He works one finger inside him and twists his nipple with the other hand. Johnny's said over and over that since the surgery, his nipples are mostly numb, but the look of the thing is nearly as important. Johnny moans again, bucking against Archy's hands.

Two fingers and Johnny is practically electric in Archy's grasp, twisting and gasping. Archy wants every piece of Johnny's body, as Johnny's make him say time and time again. _Thought you were gay, Uncle Arch._ And he is. A fuck is just a fuck, and Johnny's a better man than Lenny ever was.

Not that Archy should be thinking about Lenny at a time like this. Instead, he drags his nails down Johnny's side. Everything they've done since he killed Lenny is difficult and explosive, but Archy fucking well means to make this work.

He smacks Johnny hard and the boy shudders, then stills. Archy can practically feel the tension draining out of Johnny's body.

"Mm," Johnny says, stretching and rubbing his wrists. "Want me to suck you off?"

Archy grins and ruffles Johnny's hair, letting his fingers tangle there. "Yeah, that'd be nice."

*

Johnny aches all over. His face hurts, his side hurts, his hips hurts, his fucking scalp hurts. He appears to have been moved to a bed at some point, and the fact that he doesn't remember suggests that he may have passed out on Archy. Embarrassing, but hardly novel.

He rolls over, hoping (but not expecting) to find Archy there. To his surprise, Archy _is_ there, still sound asleep. Johnny suppresses a pleased little shiver. He won't wake him.

He takes an unnecessarily long shower, taking stock of the damage. He sometimes thinks there's no feeling better than coming down from a night like that, but running Lenny's business comes close. Johnny was born to be a rocker, but he's made himself into a businessman. The next step is making everyone else agree.

He dresses slowly, savoring the feeling of being grounded here, in his own body, in his own home, on fucking Boxing Day, with the entire city laid out before him. He'll wear the marks Archy's given him under his clothes like a bulletproof vest when he's out there dealing with the fuckers who want to give him trouble.

By the time Archy wakes up, Johnny is dressed and sitting in the dining room with tea in front of him. "Morning, Arch. Made you some as well." He raises a second mug in Archy's direction. "Cream and two sugars?"

"Black, thanks very fucking much," Archy says, breaking into a grin. He grabs the mug, which does indeed contain black tea, and joins Johnny at the table.

"Proof that I can be a responsible adult," Johnny suggests, putting his feet up on a neighboring chair. As always, he hopes the very true things slip between the cracks and come out less sincere than they are.

Archy snorts in disbelief. "Making tea and music. As far as I know, those are your only life skills."

"And crime," Johnny retorts, not that there's anything particularly adult about being a gangster.

"And that." Archy raises his mug and hides a smile badly. "Speaking of, got any plans for today?"

Johnny does, because he's a fucking genius who's happy to warp the world until it's the proper shape, and he's got a list as long as his arm of things that need doing for that to happen. He's thinking of releasing those pigs Brick Top is so fond of feeding people to. Practically a public service. Then he's considering having some of Harry's clubs shut down. Harry may have a lot of sway, but Johnny's in with the politicians. When he's done that, he intends to hunt for Pete and see that he's doing all right.

His head is too full to sort any of this out enough to verbalize it just yet, so he takes another sip of his tea and shoots Archy a smile. "Do I have plans? Uncle, you're going to be blown away."


End file.
